The Illusion of Paradise
by SapphyreSkye
Summary: Wren is your average newsie without a past. So what happens when her past finds her? Will she hold onto old friendships? Rated for mild violence and language, RR Please! Switched PC systems so my files are in a very mixed up state, please be patient, I
1. Beginning of the Golden Dawn

Rachel whistled happily as she as she trudged alongside her mentor Jack Kelly and his friend David Jacobs and Davey's brother Les. Les was avidly watching the other people walking the sidewalks with them and Rachel had to continually catch Les' papes before they hit the wet pavement. But she never opened her mouth, just picked up the papers and put them on her own pile. Albeit she only carried thirty on a day but at best guess, she's have to say she had at least half of Les' papes, making her pile somewhere around forty now. Les would notice it when they started selling but he'd just smile up at Rachel gratefully and then go on with his hawking. Neither of them told the older boys about Les and his papes. As the days passed, Les would drop them less often and not lose as many as the day before.  
Today the group was headed to the corner at the edge of Manhattan turf; the corner just before the Upper East Side became North Side. They waved at the newsies across the way, the newsies of North Side. Jack immediately trotted across the street with Rachel in tow to begin pushing headlines at passers-by. Rachel watched him carefully as he sold five papes within a span of two minutes. Kelly nodded at her and Rachel set out to please the Cowboy. She managed to sell five papes in four minutes. Jack smiled at her even though he shook his head. She wasn't ready to go out on her own yet but she was a quick learner. That was why Jack had taken her under his wing, determined to keep this little chick out of the eyes of the hawks.  
Rachel beamed as she presented her copper pennies to the newsboy, who pocketed them and took off again. This time Jack sold ten newspapers in four minutes. Rachel bit the inside of her cheek as she strategized; something that Jack encouraged her to do. She scanned the crowded sidewalk and spotted her first potential buyer. She walked up to the man, her lower lip pouting and tears shining in her eyes.  
"Mista', willya buy a pape from me?" she asked in a quiet voice, projecting just enough so that she could be heard. The man, an older chap with thinning white hair smiled at her and handed her two pennies for the paper. She smiled weakly, gratitude sparkling in her eyes. Just as quickly she moved on to the next victim, er, buyer. Within five minutes she had sold ten more papes.  
"Whaddya think Jack?" she asked her leader proudly, showing him the pennies and nickel she'd gotten. "Not bad, eh?"  
"Not bad at all Wren," Jack said, patting her shoulder as he called her by her street name. None of the newsies ever called her Rachel anymore. As soon as she'd started selling papers Blink had stuck her with the name Wren, having just learned it from an educated gent he'd come by in the street. It fit her too. With her dark hair that never seemed to come clean and her pale cheeks dusted with freckles, even her wide brown eyes and small stature set up her for teasing. She never admitted to being a girl though. She hated dresses and always tucked her long hair up under a cap.  
Jack turned and called across the street. Davey and Les had finished their papes. The brothers worked well together and Les wasn't actually being trained as it was, he just tagged along for lack of anything better to do during the day. How many papers he sold didn't really matter since they were Davey's anyways. But Rachel bought her own papes and sold her own papes. While Jack carried anywhere from fifty to a hundred, Rachel had evened herself out at thirty. The last five or so still gave her a hard time at the end of the morning. Jack normally had to take her aside and help her with those.  
She wanted today to be different though. She wanted to sell all her papes on her own today. She signed over to Jack that she was moving down the block to the other corner and trekked over. Her voice carried over the sidewalk as she called out headlines.  
"Boat crashes into harbor. Several dead." It was a stretch, not much of one but still. There had been a boat accident but only one person had died, an old lady with a heart condition had died from shock. Others had been badly injured though. Still, the headline worked and four more papers disappeared from her stack. She continued to call out headlines, then took to meandering the street, selling papes here and there to people who looked like they would buy. She sold another seven. She was down to her last four newspapers.  
"Please mista' I needs the money bad. My ma, she's real sick-like and my da, he jest can't get the money," she pleaded to an older couple. The pair looked at each and then the woman smiled and handed Rachel two pennies for two papers. "Thanks a bunch ma'am, sir. My parents, they'll appreciate this a lot. God bless!"  
She stuffed the coins in her vest pocket where they jingled with her other spoils. Just two more papes and then she'd be done. Jack'd be so proud of her when he found out. Ten minutes later she sold her last pape and headed back to the original corner, where Jack, Davey, and Les were waiting for her. That Jack and Davey had finished already didn't really surprise her. When not burdened with having to train a newbie, the two could walk around fast and sell faster.  
Jack looked up as she sauntered over, her thumbs hooked in her pockets.  
"Well?" he asked slyly.  
Rachel smiled widely and pulled out all of her coins, showing them off to Jack. Les whistled at the amount of money and Jack dropped in the coins that she'd handed to him earlier.  
"Good work Wren. Soon you'll be able t'sell papes by ya-self," the cowboy applauded.  
Rachel preened and turned her head, accepting the praise with shy embarrassment. Done with their work, the four headed back to the lodging house. Kloppman informed them that most of the other newsboys were down at Tibby's. So the group headed over to Tibby's finding themselves quickly pulled in and given seats and cups of coffee. Rachel made a face at the cup and handed it back. She hated coffee and most everybody knew it. Blink had probably been the rascal to hand her the drink she hated most. The boy with the golden hair and eye-patch loved to torment her and push at her temper. She was quickly handed a cup of tea instead. She smiled up at Specs before turning to Jack and Davey. Les was sitting over by Boots and Racetrack.  
"Ya shoulda seen'er! She was right out dere selling papes like a pro!" Jack said proudly, causing Rachel to blush furiously, caught between embarrassment and pride. Jack apparently had no such problem as he clapped her on the back, nearly upsetting her tea. There was a loud cheer from the collected newsies.  
"Soon she'll be takin' our papes and sellin'em for us," Race called across the restaurant. Rachel scoffed, calling back that hell would have to freeze over before she sold Race's papers for him. Let him make his own damn money to lose in stupid bets. The other newsies laughed at her jibe. She could hold her own with the best of them and each day it was re- approved in the eyes of the boys and few other girls.  
This was her home, the home that she had known for thirteen years.  
  
**********  
  
Rachel set off again with Jack and Davey the next morning, Les for once not alongside them. This time they were headed out to meet up with Brooklyn's famous leader, Spot Conlon. Rachel would die before admitting it but she adored the Brooklyn-boy. Something about his Devil-may-care attitude and that know-it-all smirk set her blood to a boil. If any of the boys ever found out the chances were good that news would get around to Spot and Spot would probably do one of two things: laugh at her girlish niavete or try to pick her up. But Rachel was not out to become the flavor of the week for Brooklyn. Rather than risking exposure she tended to avoid Brooklyn unless absolutely necessary and when she did happen to see Conlon she would promptly begin picking on him or ignoring him. Giving him the cut direct irked the Brooklyn newsboy to no end and the fact that when he did try to charm her for anything he really had to work at it. Hoy! It hit the runt's last nerve.  
This trip was no different than usual.  
"What's up Boirdy?" Conlon's voice called down condescendingly.  
The trio looked up and spotted the well-known face smirking down at them from a window.  
"Hey dere Spot!" Jack called up while Davey waved.  
"Not much pipsqueak, grow any?" Rachel called back with sweet sarcasm. Spot's smirk turned into an annoyed frown and the brown-blonde head disappeared. Minutes later a door opened and the three were ushered into the Brooklyn lodging house. 


	2. Beginning of the Fall

Disclaimer: It kills me to admit this. But I don't own Newsies. *sobs* I write this story simply to express my adoration of said movie. The only character that belongs to me is Wren/Rachel. **********  
  
Merle "Spot" Conlon gazed at his guests with a critical gray-green eye. He was fond of Jack Kelly and pretty fond of David Jacobs. His gaze stopped on Wren, Rachel Rhodes. No one knew what her real last name was, the Manhattan boys had just tacked one on the end for the sake of being there. Spot had heard the story when he'd first met Jack and Wren as they were selling papes just outside of Brooklyn territory. He hadn't been the leader of the rag-tag newsboys then. Neither had Jack, even unofficially. Now the two stared at each other, sizing up their opponent. Not that they would either of them win. They were evenly matched. Jack was strong and lithe but Spot was fast and knew how to use that speed along with his well- hidden strength.  
"What brings youse all da ways out here, Kelly?" the younger newsie leader asked at last.  
"We'se been havin' some problems with da Bowry," Jack replied easily, adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat.  
"What're dey up ta now?" Brooklyn asked with a grimace.  
"Same as always," Davey said. "Startin' fights with the boys, disruptin' our routes and our business. Last night they hit the Lodging House, toilet paper and trash everywhere."  
It had actually been a year since either boy was actually a newsie but no one present cared. These were the two boys who had led the Strike. Besides they still sold papes on their off days, mostly to teach Les and Wren how it was done. Jack and Davey both held regular jobs now. Jack was a writer over at the Sun. Actually he was an apprentice to Denton now but he was working his way steadily up the ladder. And Davey helped his father with a man's clothing store on Sixth that was doing quite well, as the newsies would constantly sneak flyers into the papers advertising the shop. Davey didn't know about that helpful push though.  
Spot looked at Wren for confirmation. It wasn't that he didn't take Jack and Davey at their word but, well, they just weren't newsies anymore. They weren't out everyday even though everyone would run to Jack with their problems. Wren nodded firmly and jerked her head back at Jack who was in the middle of speaking.  
"We just ain't got the numbers or strength ta take on a buncha bullies like them," the young man was saying. Rachel agreed with Jack. She nearly always agreed with him. Jack was older than her by three years and he had so much experience, Rachel wondered why he hadn't gotten off the streets faster. Not that mattered, the past was the past and nothing was going to change that.  
"So what? Ya want I should talk to'em?" Spot asked after a moment's thought.  
"Would ya Spot?" Jack asked earnestly. "Me'n da boys'd really like that."  
Spot nodded, his usual smirk in place, saying that he would go to the troublesome group and work something out, or at least get to the cause of their unrest.  
  
**********  
  
Rachel looked up from book as someone knocked on the room she kept in the Girl's Lodging House. She glanced over at the pieced together clock, a gift from Specs and Snoddy last Christmas.  
"Come in," she called at last.  
Racetrack came in and plopped himself on the end of her bed, tipping her book so that he could look at the cover. He made a face when he realized it was just Shakespeare.  
  
"Why's ya so in love with this Shakespeare-y guy anyways?" he asked around a sneer.  
"He writes beautiful stuff Race." Rachel flipped through the book until she came to the page she wanted, "Come gentle night, come loving black-browed night/Give me my Romeo, and when he shall die/Take him and cut him out in little stars/And he will make the face of heaven so fine/That all the world will be in love with night/And pay no worship to the garish sun."  
Race looked at her for a moment then blinked. "Yeah."  
Rachel rolled her eyes at Race. "So why are you bugging me anyways?"  
"I gots bored, ya mind?" came the muffled reply. Race had buried his head in the mattress.  
"More likely you started losing and got miffed," teased Rachel, poking at the Italian boy.  
Race spared her a hot glare before snorting in contempt and turning back to scrutinize the sheets.  
"Ok, say maybe it's more than that. Ya wanna talk about it?" Rachel asked at last.  
"Yeah, Wren, I do," Race said in surprise. He sat up and regarded her. Rachel set her book down so that she could give Race her full attention. "Well, ya sees, dere's dis goil I sorta been lookin' at I guess. She's a looka, Wren, I'll tell youse. She's curvy an' all blue eyes an' blon' hair. She laughs at all mah jokes and she smiles at me like. I dunno, it's like I'm the centa of'er attention ya knows?"  
Rachel smiled in amusement. It wasn't often that of all the boys, Race came to fill her ears with the talk of girls. Race tended to pay more attention to his poker game than the girls that gave him the eye. And despite his scrawny appearance, Rachel had often noted that girls and women gave him that hungry look like they'd just seen a full course meal or something. Rachel shook her head wryly.  
"Ya know what Race?" Racetrack looked up at her. "Ya should tell'er how ya feel. She may just feel the same."  
Race looked as though the thought had never occurred to him. He shot to his feet, planting a sloppy kiss on Rachel's cheek before bolting out the door making it protest at the abuse. She heard his steps crash down the stairs as he raced out into the New York evening.  
  
**********  
  
Rachel looked up as she heard someone taunting her across the street. She was walking back to the lodging house from visiting a friend of hers who was sick at home. She spotted the source of the call standing in the shadow of an alley coming up. They were three tow-headed boys ranging from it looked like ages fourteen to eighteen. Rachel stopped, looking around and hoping that they were talking to someone else. The street was empty but for her and the cat-callers. She shifted her cap on her head and eyed the boys suspiciously as she crossed to the other side of the street. Thankfully the boys did not follow her and she sped up.  
She glanced back to find the boys crossing the street towards her. Rachel gulped and began to walk faster, nearly trotting. The boys began to speed up as well. Rachel looked back as she began to jog. The boys weren't running but they were still gaining on her. She cursed to herself and broke into a full run. She glanced back again and was caught off guard as a fourth boy stepped in front of her from the shadows. He caught her arms before she fell and she looked up into the leering face. His buck- toothed smile made her want to gag as she struggled to break free. The other three boys approached with similar twisted smiles on their faces.  
"Leggo!" she cried, trying to kick at her assailant.  
"This'uns a li'l spitfire, she is!" crowed the oldest looking boy, pulling at her cap. Rachel's dark braid fell down her back and she yowled in pain as one of the boys grabbed it, yanking hard.  
The boys laughed. Rachel reached out and scratched the buck-toothed boy's face. He cursed and let her go as he covered his wounded face. The remaining boys were anything but happy with her actions. The advanced and began to pull at her limbs. She began screaming and struggling against the more powerful males. Someone kicked her knees out and she collapsed. Another boy lashed out with a hand and his open palm connected loudly with Rachel's cheek. She was flung aside like a rag doll. Before she had hit the pavement the abuse had started again. She felt something break inside her and began coughing and wheezing.  
Footsteps rang against the pavement. Her abusers parted enough for her to see Jack, Mush, Blink, and Davey rushing towards them. The assailants scattered, running with their tails tucked between their legs. Jack and Blink took off after them while Mush and Davey stopped to attend to the sobbing, coughing, bleeding Rachel.  
"Wren?" Mush called softly, gripping her shoulder as gently as he could. "Youse ok?"  
Wren tried to shake her head but couldn't manage it and instead began to cough. She distractedly noticed the blood that was starting to smear the pavement.  
"Shit!" Davey muttered as he picked her up as gently as he could. "We need ta get her to a doctor, now!"  
Rachel wanted to protest, to claim to be fine but as Davey began to run she suddenly couldn't do it. Her head lolled against Davey's chest as she struggled just to breathe through the pain that flared from her ribs. 


	3. Overtones of Change

Disclaimer: I own Wren, Mrs. O'Hara and Alex Macmillan, that's it! (sighs)  
  
**********  
  
"I hopes ya realize how close ya just come to dyin' on me," Jack growled as he sat on Rachel's bed. Rachel didn't answer, just spared Jack a highly annoyed glare. Didn't he realize how his moving around made her ribs hurt? Apparently not, she cursed as Jack moved yet again. At last Davey came to her rescue.  
"Jack, she's got cracked ribs, if you're gonna move, get off the bed or she's not gonna get better," the young man said firmly.  
Jack looked over at Davey as if he'd forgotten the other was there but he got up anyways. He paced over to the window and gazed out, his back ramrod straight and Rachel suddenly felt well, she felt guilty. She knew Jack was even more worried over the Bowry situation now than he'd been when they went to see Spot. Rachel pulled her gaze from the young man and looked down at her fingers curled in the blankets. Something inside of her shriveled up. She knew Jack was worried about her, not just the newsies. Now he was worried about the girls out selling too.  
"You ain't goin' back out dere."  
Rachel looked over in surprise. "Wha? What did ya say Jack?"  
"You ain't goin' back out," Jack turned, his face stony. "Ya just gonna git hurt again. Til this bullshit with Bowry is done, ya gonna be caught in da middle jus cause ya a goil." Disheartened, Rachel noted that Jack had fallen back to his street rat accent. He always did when he was upset or angry or just too distracted to think about what he was saying. The paper had made him take phonics lesson so he would be able to travel. He hadn't mastered them yet and was still a just an intern or whatever. She looked up at Jack, begging him not to make her go away.  
"Ya gotta get a different job, least till all a dis blows ova. Stay at the lodgin' house, dun go out alone, and get a new way ta make money. Maybe, I dunno, cleanin' houses or sometin'," Jack continued turning to the window again.  
"But. Jack," Rachel began.  
"Nah, Rache, ya gotta do dis." Jack sat down on the bed again, gripping Rachel's face gently and forcing her to meet his eyes. "Do it. Do it fa me, wun ya?"  
"Jack I," Rachel's protests died on her lips as she gazed into Cowboy's earnest blue eyes. She felt her will crumbling before him and knew that she'd do anything for Jack, he didn't even have to ask. She swallowed and managed to croak out, "I'll clean houses or something."  
Jack smiled at her gratefully, kissing her forehead. "Dat's mah goil."  
Rachel forced herself to at least fake a smile and murmurred "Yeah."  
  
**********  
  
Rachel regarded her arch-nemesis with daggers in her eyes. Sarah Jacobs had never actually done anything to Rachel but that didn't matter. She was part of what pulled Jack from the newsies. Sarah was what stood between Rachel and her secret dream, Jack. That was enough for Rachel to feel animosity towards the older girl. Now the minx had the nerve to play friendly with her? All at Jack's behest of course. Jack had asked his fiancé to help Rachel find a safer job for a while.  
Sarah was saying how they would go down the streets and clean houses. Hopefully one of the houses would need a housecleaner long term and that would give Rachel a chance to just relax while this Bowry business got worked out. Sarah turned to her, handing her a bucket full of cleaning supplies. Rachel sneered at in disgust and shouldered a broom while Sarah led the way down the street.  
  
**********  
  
By noon the two girls had traversed several different streets. Only one house so far had let them in to clean. Rachel was beginning to wilt both from weariness and from depression. So far they'd made no progress. If this house didn't let them in, Rachel was going to protest and declare a lunch break. The brass numbers beside the door declared it to be 658 Stuart Court and the little matching plaque read "Macmillans."  
Sarah pulled the bell cord and there came the scuffling of feet as the came to open the door. An elderly lady at least in her fifties or sixties with pure white hair pulled back in a strict bun answered the door. She had flour over her black and gray uniform as she regarded the girls.  
"Yes I do need help around the house," the housekeeper smiled. "These old bones of mine just can't do it all anymore."  
Rachel and Sarah spent the afternoon cleaning the house from top to bottom, reaching into every dark corner and cleaning each shelf, knick- knack, and table top til it sparkled and gleamed. Mrs. O'Hara smiled and handed the girls a small sack of money that chinked and clinked as it was moved.  
"You girls are very good. Will you come back next week?" she asked.  
The girls nodded and accepted the money graciously. They headed back to the lodging house where Jack and David were waiting for them. Sarah exclaimed over what a wonderful job Rachel had done and then showed them the money that they had earned that day. Jack had smiled proudly, kissing both girls on the cheek. Rachel flushed furiously; knowing Sarah would get a more familiar kiss when the two lovers were alone. David even hugged Rachel, telling her that things would be all right in a little while, that her having to clean houses was only temporary. It didn't do any good though and the little food that Rachel had eaten that day was like a pit of lead in her stomach. It didn't seem like this would ever end. She was stuck in hell with her worst enemy, the girl who had stolen Jack from her. Nothing would ever make this better.  
  
**********  
  
"You're more than welcome Mrs. O'Hara," Rachel smiled.  
The old housekeeper smiled at her warmly from her chair at the table. Her feet were propped up on the opposite chair and she nursed a warm mug of coffee as she watched the younger woman. Rachel bustled around the kitchen keeping her eyes on two pots of boiling water, one for potatoes and another for eggs. In the oven, Rachel was basting a leg of lamb.  
"You're too old to have to do all of this by yourself Mrs. O'Hara," Sarah added, looking up from her mending of Mr. Macmillan's shirts.  
"We're more than glad to come over and lend a hand when you need it," Rachel piped in, pulling off the oven mitts and pacing over to the door to cool off. She dabbed at the sweat beading on her forehead.  
This was the sixth time in two weeks that she and Sarah had come over to help at the Macmillan's. Mrs. O'Hara didn't call for them, she just opened the door when they showed up, ushered them in and set them to work. Rachel knew that Mrs. O'Hara was one of those proud kinds of women who would never admit that they were too old to do anything. It was the Irish in her that set her so strongly in her ways.  
"I'm going to go up and dust the library, you two can handle the kitchen I suppose?" Rachel laughed, picking up a rag and some polisher.  
She trotted up the stairs to the library, swinging the door open. She hummed loudly as she moved the globes and statuettes on the shelves, shifting books around to get in all the nooks and crannies.  
"What are you doing in my library?"  
Rachel jumped, twisting around to stare into the shadows cast by the unshuttered windows. Someone was sitting at the desk. She only knew he was there was because he reached over and stubbed his cigar onto the little ashtray that Rachel had constantly emptied each time she came over.  
"I'm cleanin' sir," Rachel replied, holding out her dusty rags and bottle of polisher. The man stood, coming around the desk to regard Rachel with bright blue eyes. He stood at least six a foot taller than her with broad shoulders encased in a perfectly tailored silk shirt and vest. He looked down at her grimly, his handsome chiseled face like that of a Greek statue, complete with aristocratic nose and thick eyebrows mere shades darker than his gold hair.  
"Really?" he asked, his voice dripping with disbelief. "I would have thought you were stealing something."  
"Well, sir," Rachel straightened in indignation. "That certainly knows how much you know. I don't steal!"  
The man burst out in laughter and put a companionable hand on her shoulder. When he smiled his blue eyes seemed to turn into a summer sky. Rachel however was too confused to really notice the disjointed thought.  
"Why are ya laughin'?" she asked him.  
"Mrs. O'Hara has already told me about you and your friend coming over and helping out around this dump. I'm sure it must be hard to pick up after a philandering widower," the man laughed.  
"Oh, so you're Mr. Macmillan," Rachel sighed in relief. "Well sir, I'm Rachel. Pleased ta finally meet ya Mr. Macmillan."  
Mr. Macmillan seemed to pull up and look at her sharper. He brushed off the strange look though and pulled his smile back.  
"What is that delicious aroma? Could that be dinner?" Mr. Macmillan chuckled as he escorted Rachel from the library.  
  
**********  
  
Mr. Macmillan leaned back in his chair, surveying the three women waiting for his opinion.  
"The roast was succulent, the potatoes were creamy, and that egg dish, oh, whatever it was, it tasted divine," he said at last, grinning charmingly. "You all are a good team. How would you like to take a permanent sort of position here helping out dear Mrs. O'Hara?" 


	4. A Fateful Day

AN: Thanks to everyone who waited patiently for me to get my life back in order and also to anyone who left notes! They meant a lot to me during my span of Writer's Block. I actually had a lot of chapters written but see, they were later in the story and then I couldn't figure out how to actually get to those parts of the story. So you may note in this chapter and the next that some parts don't seem up to par with my normal writing. Meh, here you go!

Rachel grimaced down at the offending dust spot on her uniform, swiping it away as she went to the door. A lady stood on the doorstep dressed in a crimson walking suit. The woman glanced at Rachel disdainfully before brushing past her into the townhouse.

"Can I help ya miss?" Rachel asked the classy lady.

"I'm here to see Alex," the woman replied sneering.

"May I take ya name and tell him you're here?" Rachel said sharply, stepping between the woman and the stairs. Rachel looked down at her archly from the second step.

"Denise Taylor," the woman replied at last, giving Rachel the evil eye.

Rachel smiled gracefully at her and turned her back to the interloper, marching up the stairs. She paused at the library door, adjusted her apron and knocked softly. She heard Mr. Macmillan's muffled command to enter and pushed open the door. She entered the well-lit book-filled room and walked quickly to the great black desk. Macmillan looked up from his accounting book in askance.

"You look ruffled my dear," he teased her. She'd been working for the widower for nigh on a month steadily, arriving each morning promptly and departing at the end of the day. She and her employer had come to understand each other's personalities well.

"You have a visitor sir," Rachel said, setting herself into a chair before the desk and crossing her arms unhappily.

"A visitor?" Alex echoed. His schedule had been cleared purposefully to allow him time to balance his stores' accountings. He wasn't expecting any visitors.

"Yep, a lady. This'un seems worse than the last," Rachel added with a roll of her eyes.

Macmillan's last 'visitor' had been a floozy out to snare the poor man into marriage by claiming she was pregnant. She hadn't been of course. "Her name's Denise Taylor if it's worth anything."

"Denise Taylor?" her employer asked blankly. Rachel shrugged, if Macmillan didn't know who she was, Rachel was even more ignorant. "Taylor…I think that it may be Dr. Richard Taylor's young wife."

Rachel's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The Doctor was a good friend of Macmillan's, coming over often for card games and dinner. Rachel thought the older man was endearing, almost like an uncle. He had taken to patting her head affectionately when he walked by her. He called her Birdy, which she had answered to out of habit thanks to a certain Brooklyn newsie. Dr. Taylor said the name Rachel was too severe for such a mousy girl.

"If this is Dr. Taylor's wife why is she here to see you? And she looked determined as a mule to get up here," Rachel added.

"I honestly don't know. Go tell her I'll be down in a few minutes and set her up in the sitting room, get her tea and all that," Macmillan said distractedly, reaching over the desk for his phone.

Rachel nodded and left the library.

Dr. Taylor came and collected his young, apparently unsatisfied, wife within the hour. Alex had only sat with Mrs. Taylor for fifteen or twenty minutes, evading all of her coy flirtations expertly.

"I'm terribly sorry Richard," Alex said softly after Dr. Taylor had seen his wife safely ensconced in a carriage waiting outside.

"It's I who should be apologizing Alexander." The Doctor shook his head sadly. "I shouldn't have let her have her way so often. She's gotten used to getting whatever she wants. I'm sorry she bothered you Alex. I know how much it still hurts you to be around women."

Macmillan and Taylor made their goodbyes and then Macmillan turned and retreated back into the library upstairs. Rachel, more than her fair share of curious, followed the widower up the stairs. She sat back down in the chair she'd occupied earlier. Alex was used to her sometimes following him around, watching him as he went about his days. This time however it was obvious that something was on his mind.

"What did the doctor mean by that? About how it hurts you to be around women," Rachel asked at last when Macmillan's fidgeting had scraped along her final nerve.

"He spoke of my late wife, Amanda," came the soft reply.

"Late? When did she die exactly?"

"It was actually several years ago," the man set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers and gazed into the distant past. "But sometimes it feels as if it were yesterday. She meant a great deal to me."

"How did she die?" Rachel asked quietly.

"Grief. The year before she died our young daughter disappeared. Amanda was never the same after that." Silence stretched. "She was never supposed to have children. But she had her heart set on a child, a baby girl, so she defied her doctors' orders and gave birth to Audrey. Audrey was her world for three years. Then she and her nanny went to the park and Audrey just wandered off. Poor Christine was horribly distraught. She thought we would kill her for losing our daughter. I suppose I wanted to but it wasn't necessarily her fault that Audrey did indeed have a tendency to wander off. The little tike did it even with us. But that was the day everything began falling apart. Audrey's disappearance tore my Amanda's world apart. It broke her heart and she just gave up. She couldn't stand living in such a cruel world."

"I'm so sorry," Rachel whispered, longing to reach out and take some of the pain off the widower's face. She hated seeing someone so alone in all this world.

"You know, Audrey's middle name was Rachel. I think that's why I like having you around so much," Alex smiled slightly. "You're just a little older than she would be and you're so alive. You have so much energy in you. It does this old heart of mine good to have you around."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh. At thirty-eight years old, Alex wasn't old just yet. "You aren't old yet sir."

"I'm glad to see that some people still think so," Macmillan smiled.

"Rachel?" Rachel looked up from the pot, pausing in her stirring.

"Yes Mr. Macmillan?" she called back.

"Could you come here a moment?" Rachel looked at the pot and sighed, setting her spoon down. She wiped her hands on her apron and exited the kitchen, turning and going up the stairs. She peeked her head around the door and searched for the master of the house in the library. He wasn't there so Rachel turned and headed down the hall.

"Mr. Macmillan?"

"I'm in my room Rachel," was the reply from the end of the hall.

Rachel knocked on the partly open door. Alex opened the door hurriedly and ushered her within, receiving a more than confused look from Rachel. He whirled her into a chair by the window and rustled through a pile of papers and photos spread out on the floor. Rachel watched him curiously before looking around taking in the deep blues and golds of the master bedroom. Macmillan let out a triumphant cry and stood, approaching Rachel with several pictures and shiefs of paper. He handed the papers to Rachel who set them in her lap as she watched her employer. He held two pictures, moving each one alongside Rachel's face as she watched him in confusion.

"What are you doing Mr. Macmillan?" she asked him worriedly.

"I finally realized who you remind me of!"

"Who's that?"

"My wife, Amanda," Alex said, casting aside a picture. He held the remaining picture out to Rachel. "That's Amanda when she was nineteen, that was when I first met her."

The girl staring back at Rachel looked nearly like the reflection that greeted Rachel each morning. The girl's hair was just a bit longer, her face not quite as lean from years of too little to eat. But her smile! It was just like Rachel's as were her wide, almond eyes.

"Give me your hand," Mr. Macmillan demanded. Rachel held up her hand and Alex held it to his stamping pad. Then he pressed her fingertips to a piece of paper, whisking the paper off the desk and regarding it under a bright lamp alongside a sheet of vellum. "Dear God in heaven."

"What is it Mr. Macmillan?" Rachel wondered.

"Look at this, look at this!" He held the two sheets of paper beneath her nose. The vellum was a birth certificate, complete with a tiny set of fingerprints. Rachel scrutinized the tiny fingerprints that belonged to Audrey Macmillan and then turned to her own fingerprints. She took the pages from Alex's hands. The fingerprints, they were identical. Larger yes, but the prints themselves were undeniably alike. Rachel stared at the certificate in shock.

"What does this mean?" she asked blankly.

"It means, Rachel, that you're her! You're Audrey. You're my daughter!" Alex crowed happily, sweeping Rachel into a bone-jarring hug. "We'll have to get a professional to look at the prints but I'm sure his findings will be the same. And you look just like her, just like my beloved Amanda."

Rachel stared up at Macmillan, her mind still struggling to grasp what this meant. It meant she had a real family. This meant she had a family that would love her no matter what. But what would this mean for the family she'd be leaving?


	5. The Goodbye

Rachel had never expected her life to change so drastically, so quickly. Walking back to the girl's lodging house, decked out in new finery courtesy of Alex Macmillan—who it had been proven now was her father thanks to a court appointed inquiry—the newsie girl could feel her heart turn to a pit of lead in her stomach. The fancy dress Alex had bought for her only added to her discomfort. It helped that Sarah and Jack had agreed to meet her at Alex's house, her home now, or at least it would be very soon. Jack carried a large box under his arm.

It was late afternoon so all the newsies were gathered in the small cul-de-sac between the two lodging houses. Only Jack and Sarah knew about the monumental discovery of Rachel's family, but soon all the newsies would know. And they were beginning to ask questions as the trio approached. Suddenly too scared to face the others, Rachel grabbed the box out of Jack's hands and dashed into the girl's lodging house, up the stairs and into the long hall where the girls all slept. With aching slowness, putting off the inevitable, Rachel put her belongings, few as they were, into the box. Heart still dragging and a cloud of doom over her head, she walked slowly back out into the square.

She hadn't gone to steps out the door when several of the girls came up to her, hugging her and crying, calling it a miracle, like something out of the dime-store novels. Some of the newsboys even congratulated her on finding her family. But in a small cluster near Jack and Sarah was her particular set of newsies, none of whom looked very happy for her. Feeling even lousier, Rachel approached them slowly, her eyes glued to her feet as she jostled the box on her, just so she could be doing something. As she got closer she forced herself to look up and at least attempt a brave smile.

It failed miserably.

"I hear's youse leavin' us, Wren, found yaself a real family now," Race growled.

"Yeah, youse looks fancy enough to fit in with dem hoity-toity rich folks now, doncha?" Mush added.

If she hadn't been subjected to tougher insults when she was younger, Rachel was pretty sure she'd be crying right about now. As it was, she certainly felt like crying, or maybe yelling at them for being so selfish. Couldn't they be happy for her? Hadn't she always dreamed of finding her family, didn't they all? Surely all the other newsies in New York, maybe in the whole world, dreamt of finding their family, their home, the place where they belonged? But that was a two-sided coin, she realized. She had belonged here too, the newsies were her family.

"Lay off her guys. You should be helping her out. You know, she didn't ask for this to happen, maybe you should be helping her to get used to the idea of not being a newsie, not giving her grief over it," Davey chimed in, putting his arm firmly around her shoulders.

God bless you Dave! Rachel sent up a heartfelt prayer that at least someone was on her side.

"Why? She's always wanted ta find her family. She neva belonged here, she was neva really one of us. Now she can pretend she don't see us when she walks by. She'll have loads of fun wid all her money," Blink said coldly.

"Blink, how can you say dat?" Rachel gasped, feeling the tears finally well up in her eyes.

"Please, ya was neva like us, you was always too good for da streets and ya always acted like it so why doncha jes get back dat rich old man o' yours." Blink scowled and turned sharply to leave.

Rachel held out a hand to Blink, trying to find the words to convey how horrible she felt. It wasn't as though she had wanted to stop being a newsie or something. Why couldn't he see that? Why couldn't any of them see it? So far only Davey really seemed to understand the compromises she'd had to make. All those blissful years of innocence she'd spent with all of the Manhattan newsies, the Brooklyn newsboys and all of her friends, they had only been a prelude to something else. Now she was set up for something much bigger. She couldn't just turn her back on the dream she'd held onto for over thirteen years. Why couldn't he see that this was her chance to know her past, to know where she came from and who she really was?

"Blink!" The boy continued to walk away from her. "Blink! Noah please!" she cried out on a sob.

Blink stopped, his head bowed, indecision screaming along every visible nerve. "I hope you have a good life Rachel," he said quietly before breaking into a run, carried far by his long legs, a stride that Rachel had never been able to match even on her best day in boys clothes.

Rachel stared after him, one hand raised as though she could summon him back through sheer force of will. Her other hand clenched and unclenched as she tried to keep her tears back. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She felt Sarah's comforting hand on her shoulder and was suddenly glad for the older girl's strong prescense. She turned, blindly seeking safety in Jack's open arms, arms that had never judged her, arms that had helped her cope with being one of the only girl newsies in Manhattan. The same arms that had helped her get past all of her silly crushes on the newsies she'd worked with, the ones she'd always known she wouldn't get far with, now held her as her world seemed to crash down around her. She'd thought Blink, he of all people should have been happy for her. He'd always helped her keep her dreams alive even when she was about frozen solid in two or three feet of snow. Now she felt empty inside. Blink had turned away from her, had shut her out of his life as easy as she would have tossed yesterday's paper out the window. Now she hurt in a way she'd never known possible.

Sarah took her home, leaving her at the doorstep only because Rachel had insisted she was fine. She had managed to stopper her tears on the walk home though it had taken a great deal of what little energy she had left. Now she felt drained and stretched thin as she waved goodbye to Sarah, forcing a wide smile onto her face. She entered her new home, her footsteps echoing back at her in the eerie quiet. Alex, she still couldn't call him father, not yet at least; he stopped her on the stairs, asking if everything was all right, had she been crying? Rachel had laughed and shaken her head, claiming it was only the cold playing tricks with her skin. Alex hadn't believed her but he was as new at the 'family' thing as she was and so he let it pass. Their relationship was still too new and fragile to test just yet.

As soon as she was encompassed in the one room that felt at all familiar, Rachel's painted smile melted beneath salty tears. She knew she was making too much noise not to attract Alex's attention and he wouldn't understand why she was so upset. Stumbling she made it to the fire-escape window and after fumbling with the lock for a few seconds, the window slid open with a well-oiled hiss. She fell out of the window and curled up in a corner where the balustrade and the wall met, crying as she felt her heart inside of her breaking again. It felt as if her chest was on fire and her body and soul seemed to ache unbearably. And all she could think of was the pain, the betrayal she had caught in her brief glimpse of Blink's sole azure eye and the way the blue had seemed to ice over while she watched, helpless, not understanding. She cried for hours, finally crawling back through the window as fat raindrops began to fall around her. Not bothering to do anything more than kick off her shoes, she fell into her bed, exhausted, and pulled the covers up over her head while she cringed, tears still falling from her lashes and pooling on her fisted hands.


	6. A Dangerous Runin

Several things happened in the weeks that followed. Rachel began to take lessons in being a lady from a respectable elderly matron friend of Alex's. Rachel and Alex also began to understand each other and the bond they shared, finding that each new dawn brought them closer together. Rachel however staunchly refused to leave the property, spending time out in the small garden behind the townhouse but never venturing past the front door. Alex didn't question her, seeming to understand that she needed time to adjust before venturing back into the world she had grown up in. Davey and Sarah came often to visit Rachel, bringing news of the newsboys with them. After seven or so such visits, Jack arrived at the door, his hands wringing his already well-worn cowboy hat. Her father had been ready to turn him off until Rachel had walked by, nose in a book of manners and Jack had called out "Wren!"

"Jack?" Rachel gasped, jerking back as though slapped.

"Wren, tell this chump I'm ya friend and ta get outta mah way," Jack had fumed.

"Alex, this is one of my friends from…" she couldn't finish the sentence and she didn't need to. Alex gave Jack an unhappy look but opened the door so that the dusty newsie could come into the parlor. Rachel made Jack comfortable on one of the couches, asking Cookie to make a cup of coffee and one of tea as well as some of the biscuits from breakfast. Jack had eaten three biscuits and downed two cups of piping hot black coffee while Rachel smiled into her teacup. Jack had obviously not changed much.

"Wren?" Jack said nervously, causing Rachel to look up askance. "Rachel, I…I need t'ask ya somethin'."

"Jack, you know you can ask me anything. If I can help in anyway…"

"It's Blink." Rachel felt her heart stop and she had to set her clattering teacup down before her shaking hands dropped the delicate china.

"What about Blink?" she choked out, eyes locked on her hands clasped in her lap.

"Well, we, that is, me an'tother boys, we'se worried bout him. We think," Jack paused and she heard him adjust his bandana nervously. "We think he maybe he's gettin' mixed in wit da wrong crowd, if'n youse know what we mean."

"I'm sorry Jack," Rachel admitted. "I don't think I follow you."

"Maybe I'se shoulda esplained some otha stuff too." Jack sighed. He stood and pulled another chair close to Rachel's, taking her cold hand in his warm one. Both shook terribly though for several different reasons. "Dere's dis new group'a boys runnin' round da streets. They call themselves da East Side Foxes. Buncha pushovers we thought at first. They never fought when we called'em out."

"They're newsies?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Nah, not really. Not at all. They're bullies, out to push 'round dem dats weaka den dem. Well, what they really is, is a group'a pushas, ya know, drug dealas and stuff. They do all sortsa bad stuff Rache. And we thinks dat Blink, dat he made nice with'em an now he don't know his head from his ass."

Rachel caught her own startled gasp in her hand. Blink, her Blink was caught up in drugs and a real honest to God gang? It couldn't possibly be her Blink, not the smiling happy-go-lucky jerk who did everything to irk her and make her smile in one breath. Rachel met Jack's somber hazel eyes and knew it wasn't a trick, it wasn't even some horrible joke. It was serious and Blink was in trouble.

"What am I supposed to do about it Jack?"

"Talk to'im. This all started right afta ya left," Jack whispered gently.

"Right after I?" Rachel asked blankly. She turned, unable to meet Jack's gaze suddenly. This was her fault, her fault that Jack now had to come and beg for her help to solve a problem she had started. She set a hand to her temple, rubbing at the headache building slowly but inevitably. "I'll have to see what I can do Jack. I don't know how much I'll accomplish, but I'll try."

Jack leaned over and kissed her cheek. "That's all I've eva asked of ya kiddo."

With that the subject was dropped and conversation was yanked onto a more mundane track until lunch at which Jack had to force himself up and out of the door, saying he'd been away from the lodging house too long. Rachel stood and saw him to the door, letting herself be swept into a fierce hug before Jack departed, leaving her with yet another whispered plea, "Please help Blink. He needs ya."

Rachel asked to be excused from lunch and went up to her room, pulling out the box she'd saved from the lodging house. She sat atop her bed, setting the box across her knees and began to pull out the contents: a few scraps of papers, headlines, a few old toys, a cap, and at the very bottom was the articles paper-clipped together about the newsie strike. And beneath the clip outs was a worn and discolored eye-patch. She picked up the patch and began running the ties through her fingers thoughtfully, letting her mind wander back along the well-worn paths of memory.

_Rachel was crying, sniveling in fact, quite pathetically, trying to wipe her tears away but only succeeding in smudging her dirt-covered face even worse. She heard voices and looked up, realizing that they were addressing her. A group of boys only a year or a few older than she looked down at her in curiosity. One of them wore a beat-up cowboy hat and the others all seemed dressed similarly to him except for the cowboy hat. Several of the boys held newspapers in their hands._

_"Whatcha bawlin' fa?" asked a dark-haired boy with wide brown eyes and olive skin._

_"I'm lost and hungry," Rachel replied in a soft voice._

_"Here den," said another boy, this one with black hair wild and unkempt set over bright green eyes and a thin face as he handed her a roll. While it had obviously seen better conditions, it was still warm and tasty as it settled in her stomach, restoring some of her strength and her spirits._

_"Feel betta now?" asked a kind-looking boy with dark blonde hair and sky blue eyes. He reminded Rachel of the angels she'd always seen painted inside the church and the nunnery._

_"Yeah, thanks. I'm Audrey Rachel," she said proudly, shoving out her hand to the cowboy._

_"Aw-audree Rachel?" scoffed the angel-boy. "Well, Aw-aw-au…Rachel, that's a awful big name for a runt like you."_

_"Huh?" Rachel had never thought her name was big._

_"Ya look more like a sparrow, a wren or something," the boy continued. "That's what ya are, you're a wren!"_

_"Fine if I'm Wren, who're you?" Rachel had demanded. _

_The cherub had smiled, "I'm Kid."_

Rachel felt tears well up in her eyes. That had been long before Blink had lost his left eye. They'd only been children then, tossed to the curb by Fate and thrown together by some strange whim of Fortune. It was hard to believe that her Blink had turned into such a cold person as they grew up. He hadn't actually, at least until that last month, when things had been coming together for her had things seemed to fall apart between the two of them.

She couldn't just leave him to destroy his life in a fit of misguided revenge, she decided at last. She gently placed the patch and the other mementos back into the box and lovingly settled it under her bed again. She looked out the window and saw that it was still early afternoon. Surely she could track down Blink in the next few hours or at least get started.

Rachel jogged steadily down the street, knowing that the daylight was waning and that she only had a few more hours to get anything done today. It was the third day of investigating. So far she'd come up with nothing on the so-called East Side Foxes. Oh, everyone knew about them and who they were and what they were about but no one really knew how to find them. Ready to scream in frustration, Rachel was headed home to sort what she had managed to learn that day. She turned a corner and was forced to pull up short as a broad chest came within a few inches of her nose. She blinked rapidly in confusion, not understanding what was happening until she was tossed against a wall and fell to the ground, her papers scattering. She was inside an alley now. She stood, glaring around at the shadows, trying to pinpoint where her assailant was. She backed against a wall knowing at least then they couldn't get at her from behind.

"Whatever you want, I'll get it for you, just let me get home, please!" she asked to the air.

"Don't want nothin'," came a dull-voiced reply as a hulking behemoth waded out of the shadows. Greasy hair shone sickly in the fading sunlight. "Nothin' but youse goil."

Rachel drew back into the wall, trying to press herself through it into the building, against all hope. "Don't do this, please! I just want to go home, I have important business to take care of."

Another boy stepped out of the shadows, scooping up several pages of her report so far and scanning them with lifeless eyes. "Youse been snoopin' round bout da East Side Foxes. What? All dat hard woirk and now youse don't even wanna talk ta us?"

"You? You're the Foxes?" Rachel blanched, her heart racing wildly.

"Who'd youse think it was, stupid goil!" lashed out a skinny, snake-like boy, his open hand catching her cheek and sending her flying.

Rachel landed with a crash and a thud, seeing stars as she tried to focus on the leering faces above her. "Why is youse so in'trested in da Foxes, goil?"

"A friend. I'm trying to help a friend," Rachel managed to spit out.

"Is dat so?" laughed the second boy, revealing his yellow teeth. He tossed the papers down at her. "I suggests dat ya not come afta us no more. We ain't right company fa a lady like youse."

The boys left, leaving Rachel feeling drained and shaken. She managed to get herself to her knees before tears began leaking out of the corners of her eyes. She began picking up her papers with shaking hands. A page floated before her eyes. It was the one on which she'd listed all of Blink's old favorite hangouts cross referenced with places where the Foxes had shown up. She reached out for the page numbly.

"What're ya doin' here Wren?" Rachel tore her gaze from the paper and stared up into the last face she'd expected to see.

"Blink?" Rachel breathed. "I've been looking all over for you!" She threw herself at him and blinked back hurt tears as he pushed her away.

"Ya shouldna come afta da Foxes Wren. Dey ain't fa peoples like youse."

"People like me?" Rachel flustered. "I remember when you and I were the same people. How can you act this way?"

"Easy," Blink said as he stood. "Don't come lookin' fa us again."

"Blink, you're not really one of them are you?" The boy who had once been Blink turned and set his icy gaze upon her. "But Blink, you're better than that!"

"And how would you know that?" he asked her harshly.

"Because I know you!" Rachel cried angrily. "And you know me Blink, whether you want to remember it or not!"

"Why're ya here Wren?" Blink asked her in a defeated voice.

"Jack came and saw me. He told me what you'd gotten yourself into. He and the others are worried about you," Rachel stormed, tossing her papers into her bag.

"What bout you?" Blink looked up at her sadly.

"What do you mean?" Rachel tossed back at him, pulling up defensively.

"Were ya worried bout me too?" Rachel recognized the look in Blink's eye, the defeat and the impotent anger.

"Yes, Noah. I was worried too," she said sadly, lowering her chocolate gaze from his sapphire.

She heard him walk back towards her. "Why did ya leave?"

Rachel cringed to hear the hurt and anger in his voice. "I wanted to know who my family was Blink. You of all people should know how important stuff like that is to me. I was handed part of my dream. I wasn't abandoning any of you. I could never do that. I just couldn't let this pass me by. It was my only chance."

Blink gazed at her unhappily. "I guess I can't say I don't know what you're talkin' bouts as often as I let ya yap inta my ears about that very same thing."

Silence stretched as dark shadows grew around them, spanning the distance between them.

"Blink, I miss you," Rachel whispered at last. "I miss talking to you and seeing you. I miss the way you protected me and the way you brushed my hair for me when I was upset."

Blink turned away, hiding his face in the shadows. "I miss youse too. But this is what ya wanted isinit? Ain't it a little too late to go changin' ya mind now?"

"Change my mind?" Rachel echoed blankly as Blink disappeared into the shadows. Rachel shook her head in confusion. "What am I missin'?" she wondered aloud. "Wait Blink, when will I see you again?"

"I'll meet you in the park tomorrow at two," his voice drifted back at her.

Rachel smiled triumphantly, clutching her papers to her chest. With a lighter step, she made her way home.


	7. Revelations

Rachel was still wondering at dinner what Blink had meant, moving her food around her plate, her mind too worked up to let her eat. On top of that her stomach felt like it was in knots. Everything seemed to be working against her. Her teacher, Widow Thompson was becoming annoyed with Rachel's constantly haring off to try and save her friends from all of their messes. She insisted that Rachel needed to be more concerned with her own well being rather than that of street rats. Rachel couldn't help but feel frustrated that everyone seemed to forget that these weren't street rats. The people they spoke of so unfeelingly were her friends. On top of that she longed to throttle them each time they spoke of them while conveniently forgetting that Rachel herself had been a street rat for ten years. It drove her mad!

Alex repeated a question for the fifth time, finally succeeding on capturing Rachel's attention.

"What did you say?" she asked blankly, looking up from her uneaten supper.

"I asked, is something wrong?" Alex repeated with some amusement.

"Oh, no, I just, I guess I don't feel well. I think I was out too long today and it's affecting me strangely," Rachel lied. The truth was she hated having to pretend to be two people. Why couldn't she just be herself and have people be happy for her?

"If you want, you may excuse yourself to bed," Alex suggested.

"Really? May I be excused then?" Rachel asked hopefully.

Alex smiled and nodded. The new maid, Olivia scurried out of the corner she'd been pressing herself into all evening. The young Grecian woman nervously cleared Rachel's plates and when she'd finished Rachel stood, kissed Alex on the cheek (a custom she had come to dislike intensely) then trotted up the stairs to her room.

When the door was firmly shut behind her, Rachel dove under her bed and drew out her memento box. She shuffled through the contents hurriedly before pulling out the clips of the newsie strike. She laid out the articles, several from several different papers, and the one that the newsies themselves had printed thanks to Joseph Pulitzer.

She tapped the picture from The Sun and scanned the article that Bryan Denton had written. She ran her fingers over the picture, remembering the day the picture had been taken.

_Jack had tried to make Rachel stay back at the lodging house but the girl had staunchly refused to obey this time. Last time she'd been there, Crutchy had been nabbed, but that didn't mean something would happen this time._

_They'd stood outside for what seemed like hours even if it had only been minutes. At last the great iron gates had swung open and the scabbers had stood there like nervous horses, shying away but wanting to push through. She understood their indecision, torn between needing money and wanting to fight for a good cause. For these few, it had become about money. They'd stood there, both sides eyeing each other, neither wanting to make the first move. Then Jack had called out, "Let's soak'em fa Crutchy!"_

_That had started it all. They'd rushed in and the scabbers had fallen back before them, like leaves before a storm. Only the storm hit a bigger, tougher storm; the Crypt. Rachel's heart had turned cold and her stomach dropped to the ground as fear turned her insides to jelly. She'd looked around only to find she'd been cut off from the others. Knowing what Jack would want her to do, she'd flown for the gates only to find more of the hardened thugs. She'd pushed herself into one of the paper wagons, eyeing the battle raging around her. When a thug tried to grab her, she had raked her nails across his face, sending him reeling backwards as blood dripped down his chin._

_Another had tried as well, this one coming up from behind her. She couldn't reach him and each time she tried to shift around the snake was faster than her and stronger, not letting her squirm an inch.   
"JACK!" she'd cried, realizing she was in over her head._

_She'd watched Jack turn to find her but he was all the way on the other side of the yard now. The other boys were too busy trying to protect themselves as well. All Rachel could think was that she had been an idiot._

_Then a marble had gone shooting by her head, nailing her attacker in the jaw. His grip loosened enough for Rachel to worm away, kicking at his crotch as she moved into the fray. She knew of only one group with that good of an aim._

_"SPOT!" she called as she spotted him on the rooftop. And on the surrounding flats stood the other Brooklyn boys. Jack, attracted by her yell looked up as well, as did the other newsies._

_"Neva fear, Brooklyn's heare!" Spot Conlon shouted as his boys began to rain marbles on the Crypt. Within moments, the tide had turned and the Crypt was the one fleeing as Spot got to the gates and flung them open, revealing the rest of his boys marching in._

Denton had snapped the photo only moments later, as all around them newsies celebrated their victory over one of the most notorious gangs in New York City. Had he only waited a few more seconds the Sun reporter would have had a shot of more than a dozen boys being bowled over by a tiny blur that was in actuality Rachel hurtling herself at the boys in joy. She'd only hit four of them but they'd been so shocked they'd grabbed the boys closest to them and a chain reaction had started, ending in a pile of tangled limbs and expletives being shouted loudly while Rachel laughed at them.

Rachel was up and dressed early. Alex had already left to go to the shop so she had the house mostly to herself. After a few anxious minutes, she decided to get a book in the library, something to keep her mind off of all the nerves she was suffering from. With a plan in motion, she headed down the all to Alex's study, perused the shelves a moment or two and then pulled one at random when she was unable to make a decision.

Cookie came up to check on her only once.

At about one o'clock, Rachel put the book aside, grabbed her coat and gloves and went to the sidewalk where she expertly hailed a taxi and directed him to the park. She arrived several minutes early so she had plenty of time left to worry and be nervous. Thank goodness she'd brought gloves or else she'd have started chewing her nails, a habit that Widow Thompson had abhorred and had decided was the first of Rachel's many flaws that had to go.

"So ya came afta all."

Rachel looked up, a wide grin on her face that slowly died when she saw how serious Blink looked.

"Of course I came," she managed to whisper.

"Well, I wasn't sure ya would, seein' as how ya gots ev'rythin' ya wanted and all," the boy shrugged.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked confused.

"Yeah, Alex told me bouts how ya wanted to start ova an' forgeddabout Race and Jack. And youse wanted me out of ya life too."

_Alex? Alex had been the cause, the implementor of her grief and worry?_ It seemed strangely unfair that her so-called father had set out to alienate her from her past.

"Oh Blink. I don't want any of you out of my life. I care about all of you so much!" Rachel rushed to Blink and grasped his hands. "You're my family as much, if not more than Alex is," she soothed, pulling the shaking young man into her arms. Blink returned her embrace, clinging to her fiercely.

Rachel's heart felt suddenly lighter than it had for two months.

"ALEX!" Rachel called as soon as she opened the townhouse door. She pulled Blink in quickly as she heard Alex's footsteps on the stairs.

"Ah good Rachel, you're home. The Thurstons are coming over in--," Alex stopped as he noticed the angry scowl marring his daughter's features. "What's wrong darling?"

"What's wrong darling?" Rachel mocked. "How dare you ask me what's wrong!"

Rachel advanced angrily, Blink stepping out of the shadows, a similar rage painted over his features. Alex's eyes lit up in recognition and his features twisted with disgust. "What is that dust-bin child doing in my house?"

"Dust bin child?" Rachel squawked indignantly. "What am I then?"

Alex realized his mistake and turned to Rachel, trying to sooth his daughter's ire. "Now Rachel, you are my daughter, you're a well-bred young lady of good blood and education now. You shouldn't associate with people like him. It's, well, it isn't politic if you follow me."

"Well I have a headline for you Alex!" Rachel stormed, pulling herself up and facing Alex proudly, Blink standing behind her. "I was a dust-bin child for a good portion of my life. They taught me more about people and myself then you would have ever been able to. It's because of them I even came here! Had it not been for their urging I wouldn't have found my way to your door and you wouldn't have me here! Besides which, they're my friends! You won't take my friends away from me!"

Alex drew back disgusted, his lip curling in shocked fury. Before Rachel could react Alex's hand swung out, the back of his fist connecting with her face, sending the girl flying into the wall. Blink stepped in like an avenging angel, diving upon Macmillan before the older man could step closer to Rachel. His fists connected with Alex's face twice and the kitchen was filled with the sickening sound of bones grinding as Blink's punches broke Alex's jaws. Alex collapsed at the foot of the stairs in a boneless pile.

Rachel blinked up at the angel standing over her. A lone azure eye gazed back at her with concern and golden-red hair floated around his face like a halo of light.

"Hold on Rachel. I'm gonna getcha ta Sarah and Davey's."

Rachel wondered how the angel knew her name before she floated into the soft blank of unconsciousness.

"Rachel. Come on Rachel," pleaded a woman's voice.

"Please wake up Wren. Ya gots us all worried here," complained a young man who smelled strongly of cigar.

_Race is that you?_

"Come on kiddo. Wake up why don'tchas?"

_Jack, Jack, I'm trying!_

"How ya doin' today boirdy?"

_Spot? I can hear you._

"Wren? Rachel, can ya hear me?" Blink asked. "Why's ya still asleep? Sarah told me hows ya got ya temple busted up right awful. Damn dat bastard! I shoulda killed'im. A broke jaw is too good fa'im."

_Oh thank you Blink, thank you for everything! I'm trying to wake up. I just can't. Nothing seems to want to move. I can't feel anything. But I hear you! Can you hear me?_

"I wish ya'd wake up soon Rache. We's all worried bouts ya. I-we all miss ya." His voice caught for a second. Rachel distantly felt someone picking up her hand. They pressed her tiny delicate fingers between their strong callused ones, rubbing them hopefully. "Rachel, I miss youse. I can't stand seein' ya like dis. Come on, just wake up an tell me I'm being a goofy idiot o'somethin'!" Blink demanded.

_Noah I want to! I'm trying to! I miss you too you lug-head!_

She felt stubble prickling along the back of her hand seconds before warm tears hit her skin and shattered. She felt her heart lurch.

_Noah, oh poor Noah. Are you crying for me? Please don't cry. I don't want people to cry over me!_

Her hand was released and she heard the faint sounds of Blink trying to compose himself. A gentle finger traced along the side of her face and her jaw. Rachel struggled to force her body to move, to give some sign of wakefulness. The door shut just as she managed to feel her finger twitch of it's own accord.


End file.
